Crystalline Melodies
by Torissa Nikole
Summary: Krystal is forced to confront parts of herself and her past she had prayed would never see the light of day again.
1. PAST--I Give Pirates The Electric Chair

I gripped my mom's hand tightly as we wove through the crowd of people at the docks.

"We're almost there," my fourteen-year-old sister, Aria, whispered in my ear. "When we get there, I'll give you some candy." My eyes widened as my heart filled with excitement and anticipation. _Candy!_ We were hardly ever able to afford things like that back then. I struggled against the urge to run on ahead of my mom and search for our boat myself. If I did that, Aria wouldn't give me any candy. Only good girls got candy.

Mom let out a long breath of relief as we came into sight of our ship. It was nothing fantastic-just a dingy, undersized, overcrowded passenger freighter-but to my nine-year-old mind, it was a spectacular 1st class cruise ship, decked out with luxurious decorations and maids and butlers that tended to you as if you were royalty.

Mom put her arms around my neck and gave me a quick squeeze. "It may not be a palace, but that doesn't make you any less a princess." I smiled. She always had a way of making the best of every situation.

"I think it doesn't matter if the path is perfect, but rather that the destination is," Aria said thoughtfully.

Mom smiled. "And what could be more perfect than a vacation to Japan? We're going to have so much fun. And I promise, things are going to be different for us now." She grabbed our hands and pulled us up the gangplank and onto the deck.

I looked around in wonderment, absorbing everything. I planted my feet firmly into the ground, counteracting the gentle bobbing of the ship in the water. Men bustled about, loading crates of goods into the hold, while several more passengers boarded and were directed by crew members below deck to their quarters. I pulled free of Mom's hand and rushed over to the railing, peeking underneath the top bar at the greenish-blue water rippling in tiny waves below us. Scanning the horizon, I saw an opening in the harbor, an opening that allowed me to view the vast expanse of ocean, and the line where sky met water. My eyes trailed upwards, and the endless blue sky encompassed my line of sight. Beautiful clouds scudded across it, proudly displaying their complicated and erratic formation patterns for the land-dwellers below to see and admire. At that moment, all I wanted to do was fly. Fly right up into the clouds, speeding in circles around the world, letting the sky soak into my skin. And I somehow felt that if I just tried hard enough, I could.

Before I could make any sort of serious attempt, Mom wrapped her arms around my waist and plucked me off the railing, pulling me into a tight hug. "I love you, Krystal," she said. "Let's stay together, okay? We wouldn't want you to miss the tour of the castle, would we?"

I giggled and scrambled to the ground. "No, Mommy! It's not a castle! It's a bird! A big giant bird that'll carry us across the sky-ocean. We're going to FLY to Tokyo!" Aria laughed as I thrust my arms straight out to my sides and ran in circles around them, imitating a bird in flight.

"As you wish, my queen," Mom smiled warmly, the "laugh-lines" around her eyes crinkling, giver her a glowing, pleasant demeanor. I wrapped my arms around her waist and looked up into her eyes. "I'm going to fly someday, Mommy," I spoke solemnly. She bent down and kissed the top of my head.

"I'll bet you will."

I jerked my head up with a start, tense, as you are when you fall in a dream and wake up. It was the third evening I'd spent watching the sunset, a golden disk of pure, radiant energy that collided with the sea in a fireworks display of glorious reds, pinks, oranges, and violets. I gave a small smile. No matter how many times I watched it, I knew it would never cease being beautiful and majestic.

"What're you doing?"

I turned my head to see Aria leaning against the railing, watching me. I looked back and forth between her and the sunset. The yellow haze made her bright red hair seem orange, and looking down to inspect my own, I saw it made my dirty blonde hair a lustrous golden.

"Watching Apollo," I said simply.

"Apollo?" Aria chuckled. "Listening to Mom's stories again?"

I shook my head defiantly. "No, they're true! Apollo rides his golden sun chariot across the sky every day. He always shines brightest right before he disappears."

Aria hugged me. "You're adorable."

"But I mean it!" I protested. "See, right over…" I turned and pointed in the direction of the setting sun, but was met with a large black dot on the horizon, blotting out a section of it. I pouted. "That stupid ship is blocking my view."

"What ship?" Aria leaned over the railing to get a better look, squinting against the sun. Her hair cascaded across her shoulders, rippling like waves in the chilly October wind. A shadow passer over her eyes. "Hmm... I think it IS a ship." I heard a bit of commotion on the other side of the deck, and turned to see that some of the crew members had spotted it as well, and were crowding together for a better view.

"It's just another freighter, you numbskulls." One of them laughed after a moment. "Nothing to fuss over.."

"But look!" Another cried. "Look how fast it's moving! I've not seen a freighter quite that fast before."

They looked at it for a minute or so more and I did as well. It was indeed moving faster than any sea-worthy object I'd seen (though with my limited experience with them, I doubted that meant much of anything), and had grown to at least thrice it's initial size in the past five minutes. It appeared to be drawing closer. My heart began to beat faster, a sixth-sense telling me something bad was about to happen. I caught a couple more snatches of the crew's conversation.

"...straight towards us.."

"...knots over average speed…"

"...tell the captain?"

As it drew nearer and nearer more crew members came out on deck. Aria and I watched, wide-eyed, curious to see how the staff would react. The intensity of their hushed and anxious whisperings sent a chill up my spine. If the big, tough grownups were scared or confused, then it must have been something very terrible. It now seemed to be less than a few miles away, and continued moving straight towards-no, straight in front of-us.

It was going to intercept us.

Suddenly, all I could think of were the tales Mom used to tell me about terrible pirates with wooden legs, scraggly, unkempt hair, and hooks for hands that made you walk the plank, all the while grinning an evil, toothless grin. '_Pirates.'_ I thought,, adrenaline tearing through my veins like an electric fire. I was suddenly more acutely aware of my surroundings: the gentle bob of the boat under my feet, the rushed bustle of the crew members, the worried and thoughtful expression on Aria's face. Suddenly, the entire freighter lurched sharply to port, and I had to grip the railing to keep from being thrown to the deck. "Aria!" I shouted, my heart leaping into my throat. "What's happening?!" she exclaimed. My eyes never left the approaching vessel, black against the violet skyline. And it appeared to be speeding up, changing direction to match our rapidly altering course. There was not a doubt in my mind.

"Aria," I said, my voice frighteningly calm and certain, "that boat is chasing us."

She stared at it intently, and within a few minutes seemed to come to the same conclusion. I looked up at her, searching for some kind of reassurance in her beautiful blue eyes. But no, all that I found was fear: a fear that reflected my own all-too-accurately. There was something she wasn't telling me. And that was what scared me the most. I grabbed onto Aria's coat and yanked on it a couple times to get her attention. "Aria, what's wrong? What's going on?" She blinked as if waking from a daze, then put her hands on my shoulders and turned me around, towards the stairs leading below-deck. "Let's go get Mom, okay? I'm sure everything will be fine." I gulped back a whimper as Aria ran down the stairs and turned left, falling out of sight. I wanted to follow her - to wrap my arms around her waist, bury my face in the soft, warm folds of her coat - but my feet were rooted to the ground in fear. So instead I stood at the top of the stairs, my wide hazel eyes glued to the approaching vessel. What if it really _was_ pirates?By now, it was big enough to see tiny dots of movement on the deck. They moved around frantically, like ants preparing to serve a freshly slaughtered meal to their queen. I don't know how it's possible for people to look so menacing from such a distance, but I swear, those tiny dot-people looked positively evil. The wind picked up, biting at my sun-kissed cheeks. I shrunk into the shadows of the doorway, hiding as a few crew members started to usher some of the more panicky passengers below-deck. I could almost feel the crew members' anxiety rolling off in waves, and it did nothing to calm my nerves. I leaned against the wall, hiding my face as a little child does when frightened. Granted, I was a little child, and I was frightened, but that's not the point. The "If I can't see you, then you can't see me" philosophy and all that good stuff. With my ear pressed against the wall, I could tell the stairs must have run behind the captain's office, because I heard a few of the crew members speaking in hushed and nervous tones

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Those parts are infested with 'em. Did you radio for help?"

"Yes, sir, but we're too far out for anyone capable to have heard us. According to the maps and plans, the soonest we're supposed to come across any other vessel is in two days. We're stranded."

The captain let out a long breath of exasperation. he sounded so hopeless, I wanted to melt into the ground and wait until I woke up from this way-too-realistic nightmare. Why couldn't it have been just a good ol' bad dream?

Sadly, the Fates' vendetta would not allow me such an escape. They're not that kind. Trust me. I'd know.

Aria and Mom ran up just then, and Mom wrapped me in a tight, warm hug. "It'll be alright, honey." I pulled from her grasp and dashed after Aria, who had rushed over to the railing and was leaning over it, as if the few inches closer it got her would give her x-ray vision. I stood beside her as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the expensive pair of binoculars she got from a friend for her birthday. she pulled them up to her eyes and peered through them for the most excruciatingly long 30 seconds nine-year-old me ever had to wait. Suddenly, a look of sheer terror came over face.

"Omigosh...Mom...Mom, they've got gu-!"

She was cut off by a terrible unearthly scream, and one of the crew members keeled over. The rest of the staff crowded around him, but not before I caught sight of him bleeding from a gaping hole in his temple, his lifeless eyes rolled back in his head: he was dead.

From there on, things passed in a bit of a blur as my mind tried desperately to process it all. Aria pushed me onto the ground, yelling for everyone to get down. She gave a blood-curdling screech as a bullet hit her in the shoulder. Two more men fell down dead before everyone could get onto the deck. I felt Mom on the ground next to us, wrapping us in a hug which I then thought was for comfort but now realize was her protecting us. She whispered words of comfort, but it didn't do much to calm Aria's heart-wrenching cries of pain. The shadow of the demon-ship now loomed over us, and I shivered, more from fear than cold. My senses started to leave me, and I felt as if I were watching the whole thing from outside my body. Our freighter had stopped completely by now, and the sleek black ship had docked itself to the port side of us. Tall, muscular, dark men in black clothes leaped from their ship to ours, and I knew instantly that these men were more terrible than any pirates my imagination could have concocted in the worst of nightmares. They pointed their guns at everyone, barking out orders for us to stay down. One of the crew members tried to approach the, hands out in a peaceful manner, and his reward was a bullet to the gut. They stormed below deck and came up a few minutes later with all of the passengers and crew in tow - plus two more corpses to add to their ever-growing collection. I thought I would be sick to my stomach. They ordered us to stand, and we did. They began to divide us into groups by age, anyone under 50 being ushered onto the black ship. The three of us - Mom, Aria, and I - were huddled together, Aria leaning on Mom for support. The front of her jacket was soaked red.

Next, the men began to separate the children from the parents. There were only a few other kids on board, but the sobs of the mothers as their toddlers and tweens were dragged away from them was nearly enough to make me burst with anger all the same. Then they came for us. _We_ were being dragged away from Mom, and I was too shell-shocked to resist. I stood next to a boy my age, who I didn't remember seeing before. Mom was completely stiff, and I could literally see the wheels in her head turning as she tried desperately to come up with some way out. Some way that would not result in our death. But she knew just as well as I did that there wasn't one.

Her intense concentration caused her to stumble as she was being pulled into another group, and her limp made her fall to her knees with a cry. She'd always had a limp, but never told me where she got it or why. Well, now that limp appeared to be her downfall, as one of the men smacked her upside the head with the butt of his gun, yelling something at her in another language.

My heartbeat pounded in my head, blocking out all sound, and anger caused my vision to blur. These men had no business showing up like this and demanding everyone do everything they asked. Even pirates should have some code of respect, even if it was a pretty dumbed-down one. Seeing them treat my mother like that...it broke me.

And so I snapped.

Suddenly, I had broken away from the man's grip, my fury lending me a superhuman strength. I dashed towards the man hitting Mom, and leaped onto his back, snarling like a rabid dog. He grabbed my legs and started to drag me off of his back, smirking at my seemingly pathetic attempt at stopping him, but then, something happened. He began to shake, and the small shivers slowly turned into convulsions, and before I knew it, he had fallen face first onto the deck, his eyes as dead as the corpses lying not ten feet away. I sat there on his back in complete and total shock, even as more angry men tried to drag me off of the dead man's back. Even then, the second they touched me, they were thrown back by some sort of force field. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, and realized that pure electricity was coursing from my hands and around my body in waves.

_Lightning?_

The rest of the men stepped back in fear, wide-eyed. The field of energy around me imploded, and I felt suddenly exhausted, like all of my life-force had dissipated along with it. My consciousness started to slip away, black tendrils creeping onto the edge of my vision. Only then, as I went limp and fell next to the dead man, did I realize that he had fallen on top of my mother, and by the cold, absent look in her eyes, I hadn't just electrocuted the man. I heard someone screaming, and I looked around to see who it was. And then I realized it was me. With that, I curled up into a fetal position, and waited to die, or wake up, or _something_.

And then I slept.


	2. PRESENT--The Bucking Bronco Of Death

'_This is agonizing,'_ I think, trudging slowly down the narrow dirt road. Each step sends a spark of pain up my side, and I clamp my hand over it in a pathetic attempt to relieve the pain.

"If I don't get this treated soon, I'm gonna have a malformed ribcage for the rest of eternity," I mutter. This 'camp' had better have a decent Nurse's office, or I'm going to flip a table. Preferably the Nurse's.

I guess I should know by now that grumbling never fixes anything, but I really just want to hear my own voice through the overbearing silence pressing in from all sides. Looking around to distract myself, I again absorb the sight of overhanging trees lining the road, flashing their bright autumn colors. A gust of wind stirs a small flock of sparrows down from their perches and sends them soaring off into the sky. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. It's so beautiful here. It's overwhelming, the contrast between here and...there. The only thing keeping me from being swept away in the course of everything is the adrenaline coursing through my veins and sheer will and determination. Some days, though, I'm not sure if those are blessings or curses. Most days, I don't really even want to know.

I brush my long, blonde hair out of my eyes with my free hand and look up at the setting sun. The yellow haze that always accompanies an autumn dusk is a reminder that I need to pick up my pace if I want to get there before nightfall.

I heft my three duffel bags higher up on my shoulder, wincing at yet another spike of pain. I guess I didn't realize how much stuff I have until I moved it half way across the world.

I limp on in silence for another forty minutes or so before the sun finally sinks below the horizon, bathing the world in darkness. My pupils dilate, attempting to absorb as much light as possible. I wrap my thin jacket tightly around my lithe frame, shivering from the cold that always comes with the black. The wind that moments before seemed calm and cool is now frigid and menacing; full of foreboding. It whips my hair around my face, hacking mercilessly at the cuts and scratches covering my body. I might as well jump into a campfire, with how great that feels.

'_Breathe in, breathe out. Separate yourself from the pain.'_ Jaw clenched, hands balled into tight fists, one foot in front of the other. Same routine I've done a thousand times before.

After what seems like an eternity of nothing but gravel crunching under my boots, I finally come out of the canopy of trees and into the open. Pale white light falls over everything, casting an eerie yet beautiful glow. I smile up at the full moon, comforted by the little bit of light. Darkness makes it harder to tell if someone is sneaking up on you.

In the distance I hear a yell, and tense, prepared for some sort of attack. But there is nothing. I listen, and hear it again, though this time it sounds more like a laugh. I purse my lips, not sure what to make of it. '_A laugh? Does that mean Camp is nearby?'_

I quicken my pace, ignoring the burning throb in my side. If it is indeed camp, I want to get there as soon as possible, if for no other reason than to sit down and get a break. I mean, five hours of walking with a broken rib and three loaded duffels is not exactly a walk in the park. Especially after dark.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles as it does whenever I'm being watched, and I tense. I continue walking, not wanting whoever it is to know I've discovered their presence. Steal the element of surprise, and you're already way further ahead than if you had it in the first place. A rustling to my left puts me on full alert, and I reach into my weapons duffel, pulling out a dagger. "I know you're there," I say, not slowing down. "Come out before I come in there and gut you."

A deep, preternatural growl causes me to stop in my tracks, and I turn towards the bushes.

_Okay. So it's not a person. Maybe a wolf. Or a bear_. I relax a bit. _Animals are manageable. This shouldn't be hard at all_. Of course I had to jinx it.

The silhouette of a large, dog-like beast, taller than me, is outlined in silver against the bright full moon, casting a deep shadow over me and anything else in it's direct path. My heartbeat quickens, nervous yet curious. What kind of dog is that big? Granted, I haven't seen a lot of dogs, but this one seems extraordinarily large for one.

It hunches over and bares its teeth, which I swear would look big on a dinosaur. Its eyes glow a dull, soulless red, and its mangy coat is spotted with dried patches of blood. It opens its mouth and lets out another grow, drool and the remnants of its last meal dripping from its maw. I stand stock still, not sure how to react to this strange creature. '_Why didn't I at least grab a karambit and not a stupid SOG knife?'_ I curse myself inwardly. I count off my options in my head.

Run? Get chased and tackled from behind.

Attack? Get mauled.

Back slowly away? Look intimidated and get mutilated for showing weakness.

'_Don't show weakness,'_ I think for the millionth time in the last seven years. I straighten, keeping my face emotionless, showing neither fear nor pain. I stare straight ahead, as making eye contact is considered a challenge. Its muscles ripple with tension beneath its thick fur, and I know that it is going to pounce. Something clicks in my brain, and three seconds later I find I've instinctively leapt onto its back and embedded the SOG in its skull. It instantly goes limp, and I roll off its back and onto my feet, eyes wide, breath rapid and shallow. I look at the corpse of the strange creature and want to stab myself.

I did it. Again. I promised myself I wouldn't ever let myself enjoy taking a life again, and less than a day later, I go and blow it. I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the guilt and misery overtake me. If I'm going to do something as cruel and idiotic as kill for fun, then I might as well just accept the consequences of it.

Eyes still closed, I twist my arm around to my lower back and add another cut to the hundred or so I've accumulated over the years. Each mark is a constant reminder of how desperately I need to suppress the part of myself that accepts my behavior as normal. How much I need to change.

When I open my eyes, I leap back in surprise. The corpse is gone. No, not "eaten" gone, "disappeared" gone. As in, no evidence it ever existed in the first place. I shake my head in confusion, then decide puzzling over it is not a worthwhile activity, and continue my dejected trudge across the darkened landscape.

I force a smile onto my face, trying to see how it feels. I should be happy right now. I've finally escaped, and I've finally found - or am about to find - the one place on earth where I won't have to run or hide anymore. But it feels like just that: forced. '_What's fekking wrong with me?'_ I sigh, wiping my ridiculous grin right off.

Hanging my bags on my shoulder, I use both hands to pull my long blonde hair into a low-ponytail and stuff it down the back of my ridiculously over-sized shirt. I have no clue what the mechanics of the society I'll be stepping into are like, and until I do, it's a lot safer to look like a guy. At least, that's what experience tells me. Sadly, even with a three-sizes too big t-shirt, it's pretty hard for a sixteen-year-old girl to pose as a guy. It's doable, but not exactly painless. I rip off one of my long sleeves and lift up my shirt, shivering in the cold. I wrap the strip tightly around my upper chest and torso, wincing at the pressure it puts on my broken rib. I tie it off in the back then pull my shirt back down.

Up ahead, on top of a steep hill, sits "camp", the entrance illuminated by rows of torches mounted upon its walls. I let out a long breath of relief. This is it. This is the place. My new home.

'_Hopefully,'_ I can't help but add. '_There's no guarantee it's what she said it was. You don't even know if she was sane or not. So don't get your hopes up.'_ Sometimes I just want to strangle that pessimistic part of myself that has to ruin every moment. Even if it's right. _Especially _if it's right.

Letting out a groan of exasperation, I begin the walk up the hill. And then I feel it again. As if I'm being watched, but even more intensely than before. My eyes widen as the realization hits: '_Packs. Wild canines always travel in packs. I must have just encountered the scout...'_ Even as I am thinking this, I'm reaching back into my bag for a weapon. I make no mistake this time, and go straight for my twin karambits. I whirl around, my eyes scanning the dark landscape for a shadow, a silhouette, movement, anything. I get more than I bargained for.

Standing there, tense and angry, is a group of six of these strange dog creatures. I know this only because there are six pairs of glowing eyes, each transfixed on me as if I am the most delectable meal they could have possibly conjured up. I find myself drowning in the depths of their hypnotic stares, and am nearly paralyzed with fear. I grin. A ridiculous and maniacal grin. Fear. Oh, yes, fear. Fear is a weapon. Some might think it's the weapon of the thing casting it - the "terrifying" one - but the opposite is actually true. Fear wakes me up. Fear keeps me alive. Those who I fear are those who are the easiest to take down.

I get into a fighting stance, hands gripping my karambits upside down so that the blades curve along the shape of my forearm. My upper lip curls up, baring my teeth in a threatening snarl that really isn't much different from the ones the strange dogs themselves bear. We stand facing each other off in a glare match before one of them - the leader, I guess - steps forward and prepares to spring.

'_Let him,'_ I think. And so I wait. When he finally does, I leap to the side and slash at his underbelly, leaving a deep gash. Surprisingly, he does not seem at all hindered by this new injury. Instead, it only serves to anger him, and he barks an order to his companions. They fan out and circle around me, eyeing me hungrily.

Their growls are not your average dog growl. They have that deep, slow growl that makes you wonder if their voice boxes are actually located in their stomach lining, for how much vibrato it sets off in your own chest. The bloody muzzles and razor-teeth don't help the scene much, either.

As they close in, I mentally calculate the odds. Me against six bear-sized dogs. Seems like a bit of an unfair match. Those poor beasts will be nothing but pelts and bones by the time I'm done with them.

A smirk on my face, a taunt on my tongue, I raise my knives, gesturing an open challenge. One of the dogs charges again, this time with the help of two of his packmates. I stand stock still until he is inches away, then sidestep and dig a karambit into his side. This cut is much deeper, and he yelps in pain this time. The knife still embedded, I use it as leverage, swinging my leg over and pulling myself up onto his back. I withdraw the knife, then lodge my nails into the kinks in his fur so he can't throw me off. But trust me, he tried. He shakes me almost as badly as you'd imagine riding on the back of one of those 80s hair-flipping rock bands. I'm surprised I don't have whiplash yet. I dig my nails in so deeply, I think I draw blood.

I have to say, though, it was a pretty clever plan. Those dogs are pathetically stupid, and didn't seem to have enough hand-eye - or would that be "paw-eye"? - coordination to properly claw at me without slashing their best bud, bucking bronco. Finally, they show some sign of coherency and he starts to run towards a low-hanging tree branch, probably in hopes of knocking me off. I mean, I almost feel sorry for the poor thing. Living stupid is worse than being dead. I guess my sympathy overpowers me every once in a while, as now I plan on granting him that wish.

I sheathe my karambits, then reach up and grab the branch as he passes under it. I nearly bite my tongue in half in pain with the wrench it gives my shoulders, but still manage to use my momentum to swing me up and onto the top of the branch, out of reach of the hounds. I go for a gun, but curse when I remember: I dropped my bags in the beginning of the fight. Ah, well. That's alright. I reach into my boot and pull out a tiny pistol. Usually a last resort and used only in very close quarters to the intended recipient of the bullet, but I believe this is a good and desperate case.

The dog I was riding on has apparently decided to use its noggin and has figured out that I am no longer on its back and it can stop ramming its head into tree trunks. It and the rest of its gang come up and start barking and gnashing their teeth at the base of my tree. I just start laughing. There's no way this can be the worst of the monsters she said there would be. She must have been exaggerating. These things are pathetic.

I raise my pistol and shoot one of them in the head. Instant kill. Again, pathetic. I shoot at another and another, until all of them are dead.

I leap down from the branch, still chuckling. That was honestly one of the easiest animal fights I've ever been a part of. I massage my shoulders and with a sigh, walk over to my bags, which I'd tossed into the bushes. I gasp. The bags have been ripped open and their contents scattered to and fro throughout the thick foliage. I swear. I kneel down and begin to gather the things up and stuff then back into the bags.

_'Food, clothes, books, weapons…where are the pictures?'_ I look around frantically. The pictures. I need the pictures! They're all I have left…

I leap to my feet and scan the area, my eyes darting over everything in sight. I get back down on my hands and knees and begin to scour the forest floor. About fifteen feet away, deep in the moss and clover, I find it. A small flip book with a few tattered photographs inside. I settle back against a tree trunk and flip through it. The first one is a photograph if my mom, Aria, and I on the boat, hugging and smiling for the camera. That fateful boat, seven years ago. I close my eyes and pull a hand over my face in exhaustion. It's the last thing I have of my family. The last tie to my first life.

I flip the page, and my heart stops. It a picture of an eight year old girl, staring off at some fixed point behind the camera, almost as if she didn't even know a picture was being taken of her.

I slam the book shut quickly and pull it to my chest, eyes squeezed shut. I'm not ready to deal with that, yet. I'm only just getting into my third life. I need to get this over with first. I'm just not ready for all the pain and guilt. Maybe if things are going alright in a few months.

I open my eyes, and the sight that greets me stops my heart.

The Alpha.

The Alpha is charging straight at me, mouth foaming, teeth bared, eyes glowing with hatred. I don't have time to go for any weapons, so I instinctively hold out my hands, palms out, in an attempt to protect my face. I guess I did a little more than that. Twin streams of pure electrical energy spiraled straight out from the centers if my palms, and the beast was annihilated instantly. A strange tiredness comes over me, mixed with my previous weariness, and I feel my vision blackening. 'No!' I think. 'Not again! I need…I need to get…get to…camp…'

And then I slept.

_Again_.


	3. PAST--The Detriment Of A Broken Mind

Have you ever just sat there, curled up in a ball for so long you thought your spine had fused that way, praying over and over that you were just dreaming? Try that for about a week, multiply the experience by ten, and then you might get a vague idea of what I went through in the days following the "incident". I couldn't bring myself to actually acknowledge that anything was my fault.

_'They made me do it. They must have hidden some sort of super-strong Taser-thing in his pocket that went off when he fell. There has to be some explanation.'_ I'd tell myself over and over. Sometimes, I'd just deny the whole thing altogether. Anything to lessen the pain. I guess Aria told herself the same things, because the few times I was aware enough to open my eyes, she seemed to be deep in thought, but showed no signs of anything…supernatural having occurred.

I must have worked myself into a fever, because I slipped in and out of consciousness so frequently, I hardly noticed the minutes, hours, and days passing by; I hardly noticed the sickening rock of the boat, the crowdedness of the lower decks, or how Aria never left my side the entirety of our journey.

Several days later (I'd long since lost count), I was finally well enough to sit up and have a decent meal. Well, that is, if you categorize the allegedly normal ration of two-week-old bread and a half-cup of water as normal…  
>"Hey, hey. Slow down," Aria whispered, placing a comforting hand on my back. "If you draw out the meal, it'll fill you up more in the long run."<p>

I was almost too hungry to pay attention at all, but her words made sense, so I managed to wait a few seconds between each bite instead of stuffing the whole block into my mouth all at once. She had always been the logical one: the lover of science. I guess it served us well, that time long ago. Who would have guessed that the "nerds" are the ones who survives the longest?

Aria smiled sadly and passed me the small metal cup of dirty water as I licked the dry crumbs off my fingers. I nearly drank the whole thing down before remembering that it was a shared cup. I handed it back to her. "You should have some, too." I muttered, my throat and tongue too dry to really form the words very well. She shook her head and pushed it back into my hands. "You're sick." She said. "You need it much more than I do. I'll be fine." I had to agree with her there. My mind felt so sluggish, it was a struggle to even stay sitting up.

I almost said something about saving some for Mom, but caught myself, visibly cringing at the memory. Aria and I's eyes met, and a sort of non-verbal agreement passed between us: never speak of the "incident" again. It was just too unexplainable - too scary - to deal with under these circumstances. It was so much easier to just write off the incomprehensible as nonexistent and simply deal with the situation at hand. It was the only way to survive, I guess.

There were many days of this. No variation whatsoever. Eat, sleep, and wait. I don't remember this part of my journey very clearly, but I believe there may have even been a corner dedicated to defecation. Trust me, it did not smell nice.

But I suppose that was their goal.

Every time one of the "pirates" would walk in, I'd start shaking with rage, and Aria would have to physically force me to not rip his throat out. I think self-restraint and anger control were the first things my journey taught me. But what really infuriated me was the look in his eyes. He'd toss the sack of food into the middle of the mass and grin as our neighbors would rush into the mess and nearly claw each other's eyes out over the scant rations. The first few times, I was too sick to move, and Aria was too timid to make a serious attempt at getting anything.

"We'll go with what's left." She'd say. As if the abductees on a slave-trafficking ship would have a sense of chivalry or something, right? Wrong. Most times, what was left equaled nil.

It was like watching a pack of wild dogs. The second law of the oppressed life: every man - or woman - for themselves. Survival of the fittest. In our case, the fastest. Within a few days, even Aria was leaping into the fray, pushing people out of the way to get to the food. And it killed me that their psychological games could push her so far as to engage in it. To turn us into something no better than animals. She probably would not have done it all, if not for me.  
>Afterwards, I could always see the pain and conflict behind her troubled eyes: we shouldn't have had to do this. Fourteen and nine-year-old sisters, huddled in the corner, clinging to each other for dear old sanity. It was the real and true personification of a nightmare.<p>

The kidnappers, however, seemed to get quite a good lot of enjoyment out of us. I'd see one of them come in and grab one of us - we were all girls - and drag her out, shaking and whimpering pitifully. It could have been anyone. The twelve-year-old in the middle, the twenty-seven-year-old in the back. When they left, they never came back.

Aria would use things she'd learned or read about to help us. She knew some things about how to remain inconspicuous; how to hide in plain sight.

"People have a tendency to look first at the left closer middle," she'd say. "It's best to therefore be in the right further middle. Take off any super bright or dark clothing. Don't make specific eye contact with anyone - especially not the abducters, as they would see it as a challenge - but don't stare at anything obvious like the floor or ceiling. Don't sit perfectly still. Statues are conspicuous. Move a little, but not too much: keep your movements natural. Keep your expression from conveying too much emotion. Also, be careful what emotion you convey. Your expression could make you stand out. Remember the second girl they took? She was smiling at her friend when they did. Everyone else was miserable and afraid. So she stood out. And the fourth one? She froze with fear, and looked more terrified than anyone else."

She paused, considering her words carefully. "The bad men prey on that: they look for the weakest, and the ones who have the farthest to fall. If you are neither of those, then you will survive. Do you understand?"

Eyes wide, I could do nothing but nod slowly, still trying to process the truck load of information just dumped on me. Her last comment had just described the next seven years of my life.

We went on like this for several more days. Aria and I would spend time engaging in completely pointless topics of conversation, just to help me get more comfortable with speaking. I'd always been pretty quiet, but I guess even then, the both of us had a sense of all the bad things that would ensue so soon after. Of how much we needed to prepare.

We'd play pointless games to pass the time, or Aria would dig into our bags and pull out books to read aloud to me. Aria told me that soon after I'd passed out, the men had gone through all the passengers' bags, looting them of possible weapons and anything that looked even vaguely valuable. Luckily, our school textbooks, fiction stories, clothes, and photo album hadn't been categorized as worthwhile. Aria even managed to hide a small knife from them, and kept it stored safely in the bottom of her shoe.

"What are they going to do with us?" I asked.

She just continued to stare at the wall, expressionless. "I don't know."

My eyes narrowed, and I struggled to keep from getting angry. "Just because you are older than me doesn't mean you can just lie to me like that!"

Aria turned to look at me. We looked at each other for a very, very long time: way past uncomfortable. I wouldn't back down, though. I needed to know. If there was anything that I hated more than being held captive, it was being kept in the dark.

"Aria, can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Promise me you won't keep secrets from me. Not anymore. It's too scary to not know. I'd rather be scared by real stuff than be scared by my imagination."

Her expression softened, and she hugged me tightly. "I won't. I'm sorry. I don't know for sure where they want to take us, but I think…I think they want to take us to a sort of work camp."

"You mean slave-labor?"

She looked a bit surprised. "Sla-where did you even hear about that?"

"Just because I'm nine doesn't mean I haven't had history class yet." I cocked my head and smirked, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm in fifth grade, remember?"

She laughed. "Yeah, you smarty pants. I know what you learn. We're homeschooled, remember?" Aria looked sad again, but quickly covered it up with a smile, the memory of Mom teaching us too painful to think about for very long.

I looked at the ground, ashamed of myself. Of what I knew I'd done. Aria took my hand and squeezed it comfortingly, just like Mom used to. I guess she squeezed some tears out of me too, because the next thing I knew, I was sobbing into her shoulder. I cried for a very long time - the first time since on the ship with Mom. It was a miracle that we made it through the journey at all. The atmosphere of the place was so hopeless and helpless, it was like a room so hot and stuffy you felt as if your chest was being squeezed and your heart twisted. Pressing in from all sides, the depression nearly made me give up.

It just _hurt_.


	4. PRESENT--Mint Flavored Pain-Killer

I sit up with a start, and am immediately greeted by a gut-wrenching pain in my side. I struggle not to let loose a shout, and barely manage to bite it back enough to muffle it into a quiet groan. Clutching at my side angrily, I slide up against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut. _'What happened?'_ I wonder.

"Hey."

I open my eyes and standing in front of me is a brown haired girl who looks roughly my age. She wears an unrealistically wide grin, and her bright blue eyes look a bit over-optimistic. That sort of startles me. _'What does she have to be so happy about?'_

"I'm Nicole. Nicole Janes. I'm a 15-year-old daughter of-" she hesitates, then sticks out her hand in the standard American greeting, not bothering to finish her introduction.

I use my good arm to take it and shake it. I'm a bit awkward about it, but at least I remember how. "K-Krys…" I mumble, my tongue feeling like a giant cotton wad. "_Sola_."

Nicole blinks. "Pardon?"

Irritated, I'm about to repeat myself, when I realize I wasn't even speaking English. It's been so long since I've ever actually had to speak it, that it doesn't even come naturally anymore. Now that realization hurts.

"Sixteen." I say, this time taking care that I use the correct English word.

She smiles. "Cool. I-"

She is interrupted by my own fit of coughing. Each bout makes me feel as if my ribcage is being ripped apart from the inside out, and I nearly choke trying to stop it. Nicole rushes over and holds a cup of something sweet-smelling to my lips. I shrink away from it. I never take food or drink from anyone I don't trust, as I can't know what kind of sick things might have been put into it. Nicole, however, looks genuinely confused at my reaction. "It's a…painkiller. It'll help with your side."

Her hesitation throws me off, but there's something about her - something innocent - that makes me feel as if I can trust her; at least enough to take the pain reliever. The pain in my rib cage is way worse than any kind of poison I can think of, so I decide it's worth the risk and grab for the cup. I down it in one large gulp, completely ignoring the startled expression on Nicole's face. It tastes kind of like the homemade mint chip ice cream my mom used to make, back when I was seven or eight.

When I'm done, I hand the cup back to her and swing my legs over the side of the cot, struggling to stand.

The Nicole girl puts a hand on my good shoulder and pushes me back onto the cot, firmly but gently. "Oh, no. You're not going anywhere. Not in this condition." I glare up at her, mentally debating the pros and cons of protesting, but eventually my screaming rib cage makes the decision for me. I reluctantly allow myself to relax against the wall, releasing the tension which was actually causing most of the pressure in my chest and side.

Nicole takes a seat in a chair next to my cot and settles back. Her ability to relax so easily in the company of strangers surprises me.

"So, Krys…" She begins, looking thoughtful. "How did you get here?"

For the first time, I realize that I have no clue where I am. I look around frantically, barely able to keep the sudden panic at bay. It appears that, by the rows of cots and tables stacked high with medical supplies, this is the camp infirmary.

"Don't worry," Nicole says. "You're safe. No monsters can get in here."

I look at her sharply. "_Danaba_?"

"Do you not speak English?"

"I do." I say, the words feeling strange and unfamiliar on my tongue. "Sorry. Monsters?"

"Yup. I assume that's what got to you. You were pretty beat up when I found you."

My shoulders sag slightly. "Giant dog-things. Do not remember many else." No, that isn't right. I guess I'll just have to work on my grammar.

"Hellhounds, then. They were probably hellhounds."

I raise my eyebrows. "Hellhounds? Like…like in mythology?"

She nods. "Yes. Exactly like in mythology."

I give her a funny look but decide that it is ultimately best to find out more about this place before questioning its religious principles.

"You didn't answer my question, though. How'd you get here?"

"I walked."

She cocks her head, grinning as if I've just said the funniest thing ever. "Feel free to elaborate."

"Um…I flew. Not literally!" I quickly clear up, not sure exactly what might be taken the wrong way here. "On a jet. Then I took a taxi. Then I walked."

Nicole looks as if she wants to question further, but doesn't push it. "Alright then. How are you feeling?"

"It is not going to heal in five min-" I suddenly realize that the pain has subsided to near nonexistence. I feel it over repeatedly, and the pain the touch causes is less than half of what it was previously. I stand, testing out my slightly widened range of movement. "What was…what was in that?"

Nicole smiles slyly. "We've got our own…herbal techniques. They work a lot better than most medicine you'd find in your average hospital."

Generally, a statement as vague as that would set off a million mental warning bells, but again, there is just something about her…maybe I subconsciously read her, I don't know, but it's gotta be something.

"How about, now that you're feeling better, I take you on a little tour?"

"Uh…sure?"

She smiles widely. I think someday, her face is gonna freeze that way. "Great!" She stands and heads for the door.

"Wait!" I shout.

She stops and turns. "What?"

"Where are my bags?"

"Under the cot. We can come back for them later."

I shake my head. "Uh, uh. Nope. I am _not_ chancing these things getting stolen." I bend down, wincing in anticipation of the pain that doesn't come, and pull the three bags out from under the cot.

She raises an eyebrow, but other than that doesn't protest at all. I sling the bags over my good shoulder and follow Nicole out of the infirmary and into the cool, open, dusk air. I blink repeatedly, my eyes taking their sweet old time readjusting to the change in lighting.

"Alright!" Nicole claps her hands together. "Short tour. It's almost dinner. So. Where we just were is the Big House and makeshift Infirmary. If you need to talk to Chiron or you get hurt in a battle, then that's where-"

"Who's Chiron?"

She stifles a chuckle. "You'll see. Soon. Up here," she points north, "across the river we have the cabins. That's where we campers stay. You'll be in Hermes cabin until you're claimed."

This surprises me. _'Hermes? What, is this camp Greek themed?'_

"Bathrooms are just east of the cabins, and the mess hall is just north of those. Then north-west of here is the training arena, and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. There's a training arena?"

Nicole nods, seeming to be a bit impatient to get to dinner. "Yes. You've got to learn to defend yourself from monsters." Her eyes narrow. "How'd you…how did you fend off the hellhound if you haven't even started training yet?"

I reach into one of my duffels and pull out the blood stained karambit. "Who says I have not trained before?"

She looks surprised, but then smirks. "Nice." She sighs. "Alright. Even further north-west is-"

I can sense how badly she wants to get to dinner, and though I don't know why, I interrupt her. "It's alright. I know you want to go. You can give me the full tour in a day or two.

"Really? Are you sure?"

"I would not have said it if I was not sure."

Nicole smiles widely. "Thanks! I promise I won't forget." She turns to go, but looks at me before running off. "Want me to come with me or get settled first?"

"If you could just point me in the right direction of this Hermes cabin, I'll be fine."

She points north. Just follow the trail. It's number eleven. Hurry! You'll want to get to the mess hall before the food's all gone…that is, if you want to eat." And with that, she sprints off and is gone.

I give a little sigh before beginning my mini-trek to the cabin area.

* * *

><p>I have to say, just based on the cabins, this is the strangest camp I've ever seen in my life. Not that I've been in very many, but this one is just plain weird. There are about twenty cabins, placed in a semi-circle facing the trail. The weird part is that every single one is completely different. Usually, you'd imagine a camp would make some sense of sameness to keep there from being claims of favoritism, or even just to keep it more organized. But I guess that's not always the case. There are two directly opposite the trail that look like mini Greek Parthenons, one slightly larger and more ornate than the other. One is apparently ocean themed - <em>'Is that real sea rock it's made out of?'<em> - and another is completely covered in vines and flowers and pretty much any other kind of plant you could imagine. There's one that looks like it might be made of solid gold, with how brightly it reflects the last of the setting sun, and still another that looks like the home of a bunch of savages - a boar's head is mounted above the door, weapons are scattered all over the front porch, et cetera. I could go on forever, listing each of the vast array of differences and describing the strange lack of similarity that is nearly overwhelming about this place. But I decide that a good meal sounds better than musing over the peculiarity of the camp creators' architectural and décor tastes.

I head for the cabin marked as #11 and walk in without even knocking. Luckily, all of its inhabitants are absent - probably at the mess hall - and I can have a few moments to by myself before fully subjecting myself to this strange new society.

The cabin itself isn't the cleanest, but it's definitely much cleaner and more stable architecturally than any other building I've slept in before. I guess I should consider myself lucky. This place is like a treasure trove of opportunities.

But what kind of opportunities?


	5. PAST--My Ineptitude For Optimism

"Get up."

I sat up with a start. Something real intelligent popped off my tongue, like "Huh, what?" I barely had time to rub the sleep out of my eyes before a rough hand grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, setting the room off like a top in my feverish vision.

"I said get up, _meye_!" He muttered something in another language and began to pull me out the door and down the hall. I looked back frantically, my eyes begging Aria for help, only to see that Aria was gone. I stumbled on the threshold, and yanked my arm away.

"I can walk myself," I said, sounding much more confident than I felt.

The man looked like he wanted to hit me for a minute, then cracked a smile: quite an ugly one at that. "_Maniba_ is going to like you." That terrible smile haunts my dreams to this day.  
>He started walking again, and I had enough sense to follow before he grabbed my arm again. Nearly dislocated my shoulder, that grip of his did.<p>

_'Where is he taking me?'_ I thought offhandedly. I wondered if he was taking me to the same place those other girls were taken to. Dear gods, I hoped not.

When we came up to the upper decks, what I saw confirmed the feeling I'd had in my gut from the second I woke: we'd docked. The irony of it was, I don't think I ever felt more free, looking up at the sky for the first time in over a week. It's funny how that works. You don't know what you've got until it's gone, and when you get it back, even the barest of necessities and the most basic things taken for granted have a new sense of specialness and awe to them. It's both terrible and beautiful.

He started pulling me again, much to my irritation, up along the deck until we reached the dock. It was bustling with people, and I wondered how on earth we were going to get through them all without being squashed into tomato paste. Apparently, though, he had quite a commanding presence, as people sort of just scrambled out of his way as he neared them.

There were so many different kinds of people there. A lot of them had very colorful outfits, and I almost all of the women were wearing headscarves and long, flowing dresses. There was much of cultural interest there, but I was thrust through it all so fast, I hardly got any time to take it all in.

He "guided" me through the crowd, giving a dirty look to anyone who wasn't fast enough to get out of his way. We walked for a very long time, and by the time we stopped, my feet felt like they were going to melt off.

The rest of the day passed in an agonizingly slow blur. I know that a lot of what looked like currency exchanged owners. That was a bit nerve-wracking. He stuffed me into the passenger seat of a beat up pick-up truck and drove a long ways to a small building that was in the middle of nowhere. He left me in the car and locked the door, entering the house and closing the door behind him. I waited an awfully long time before I finally fell asleep. When I awoke, he was dragging me out of the truck and stuffing me, Aria, and a few other girls into the back of a van.  
>Aria held onto me as if I were her life source, and only now do I realize how scary it must have been for her, being separated from me for a full day, not knowing if she would ever see her little sister again. Me? I was still in too much of a feverish stupor to really grasp what was going on.<p>

That's probably why I remember so little of it.

The van bumped along a road for a ridiculously long time. The back - where we were being contained - was blanketed in almost complete silence. Aria cut off the bloodstream to my hand multiple times, what with how tightly she gripped it. I didn't mind though. I did it just as hard back. I think if she hadn't been there, I would have died of fright right then and there. But with her next to me, I felt surprisingly calm. Like nothing could get us. I wish that had been true.  
>It was just getting dark out by the time the van rolled to a stop. The men opened the back of the van and yanked each of us out one by one. My feet hit the ground hard, and I fell to my knees, the air knocked out of me. Aria grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, ushering me along quickly. At first I was hurt by her harshness, but I looked around and realized that she was really saving my butt: the men had guns, and were giving me the evil eye for apparently slowing down the line. I shivered. I really, really didn't want to know what a bullet in the back felt like.<p>

Then I remembered.

"Aria!" I hissed under my breath, afraid to draw attention to myself. "How is your shoulder doing?"

She reached back gingerly to touch it and winced. "I'll live."

I was completely amazed and ashamed of myself for not having remembered her gunshot wound, much less even noticing how much pain she seemed to be in. She was holding it all back for me. It took everything in me to not turn around and hug her to death. I felt terrible. 'I am so selfish,' I thought miserably. A new thought nearly stopped me in my tracks.

"Aria…what…it's been a whole week. Your gun wound…is it infected?"

She didn't respond. I saw how pale she was. Tears sprung into my eyes, and I felt like hitting myself all over again.

No time for that, apparently. We were rushed in a tight line along the dusty trail. The sun finally sank behind the black and menacing clouds, blanketing the world in complete black. The men turned on their lanterns and flashlights. The way they illuminated our captors' expressionless faces and machine guns scared the crap out of me. It was right out of a horror movie.

I gripped Aria's hand tightly, hiding slightly behind her the way I used to with Mom. She squeezed my hand before stopping at the gate. It was really hard to see what exactly the place looked like with how dark it was out, but I remember thinking that it looked an awful lot like Auschwitz.

_'No,'_ I'd tell myself. _'These aren't Nazis. The Nazis were German. These guys are Middle-Eastern, I think. Besides, Nazis don't exist anymore. This has to be something else.'_

Still, the resemblance was startling. There was a tall wire fence encircling the "compound". At the top of each of the supporting bars was a floodlight, kind of like the ones you'd see at a nighttime baseball game. They faced inwards, illuminating large sections of the interior and giving the more shadowy areas a creepy feeling, as though something threatening might be lurking in them.

There were buildings lined up on the left side in rows: completely bare of any sort of marking, rusty, barely-standing metal slabs nailed together that would probably have toppled over with the next gust of wind. These had people bustling about inside, entering and exiting with armfuls and basketfuls of unrecognizable items.

On the farthest side of the enclosure, sounds of metal clanging on metal could be heard, and a dull red glow that was probably firelight shone in a sort of haze from that same direction.

On the right side, several hovels were stacked against each other. Very similar to the buildings on the right, but made of concrete. It stank of urine, soot, and sweat. The whole camp was squalid and disgusting.

A man yanked me from Aria's grip and pushed me into one of the buildings on the left. I landed on my back with a little yelp, and sat there for a long moment, shaking from cold, anger, and fear. I could hear him talking to Aria in threatening but hushed tones for several minutes. She sounded scared, and I didn't blame her. Their voices faded into the distance, and I started to shake. They'd taken her. What on earth was I going to do without her?

A couple other girls only slightly older than me filed in, and sat down next to me silently. By the frightened looks in their eyes, I could tell that they were just as freaked out about this whole thing as I was.

A few minutes later, one of them grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the wall. Me, her, and a few other girls all leaned against it, huddled together for warmth and at least a small sense of consolation. That was a very strange experience for me, as we were complete strangers, but that didn't really matter anymore. We were all in the same predicament, and that kind of united us. We had a common enemy. And however strange it sounds, that was actually very comforting.

Several of them fell asleep almost instantly, but I just couldn't. Not with the freezing draft that came in through the doorless shack opening. Not with the loud clangs that could be heard from anywhere in camp.

Not with Aria gone.

I had a feeling I was going to be here for a very long time, and that it was going to be the worst time of my life. And I was right


	6. PRESENT--I, Mud-And-Blood Bathed Hobo

Hermes cabin. I still can't get over what a strange name choice that is. I'm almost afraid to ask about the other cabin names. Well, whatever. I really just need to eat. I hope this place has better food than the slop we were offered at the last "camp" I attended.

I toss my bags into a corner and head for the door. Then I stop. I turn around and glance over the cabin. The place is fairly messy, and seems to be pretty well packed with occupants (based solely on their alleged belongings: everyone is still at dinner.)

_'Hermes,'_ I think. _'He was the messenger of the gods…but he was also the god of thieves.'_ If there is one thing I hate more than hunger, it's the idea of my stuff being ransacked and stolen. I run over, grab the bags, dash out of the house, and stuff them underneath the porch, obscured from view. I don't know what it is that makes me do this, but I just have a sort of hunch…

Taking one last good look at the very, very strange plethora of cabins, I begin back down the trail I came from.

The walk gives me some time to think: something I have not done in a long time. Well, I'm always thinking, yeah. But I mean really think. Mull. Contemplate. Whatever.

_'What will this place be like?'_ I wonder. _'Will it be anything like how I remember life before? Will it be better? Worse?'_ I really have no idea what to expect. I was born into this country, but in actuality, I was not raised in it. _'I hope that does not permanently affect anything.'  
><em>  
>I'm not given a whole lot of time for my "contemplating", as the walk from the cabins to the mess hall is relatively short. I stand several feet from the entrance and do a slow 360 turn, soaking up the last of outdoors. I hate being inside. It makes me feel sort of claustrophobic. It just reminds me of…of…<p>

_'Don't think about that.'_ I reprimand myself, shaking my head. _'You came here to leave all that behind. So leave it. Get in there. Get used to it. Because you're going to have to do a lot more of that before you can really and officially put the past behind you.'  
><em>  
>I inhale deeply before pushing open the mess hall door. The sudden blast of sound, color, and movement nearly overwhelms me. I blink several times before stepping inside.<p>

If this were a movie or a comic book, it probably would be about now that the fanfares would go off, the drums would roll, and all would fall silent as the whole room turned to look at me. The "main character" - though if you really think about it, everyone is the main character of their own life story, so no one can truly be the main character. But this isn't either of those. I'm not some huge, important person who has such a commanding presence that no one dares defy or reject me. I'm just another battered looking camper, coming in for a serving of sub-decent quality food.

I scan the cafeteria, searching the room for an indication as to what to do next. _'How's it set up here? What do I do to get-?'_

The next thing I know, the Nicole girl is running up to me, a look in her eyes that for the first time I am unable to decipher instantly.

Fury? No, it's not intense enough. Fright? No, her body language is contradictory of that.  
>I walk up to meet her, deciding that no amount of analyzing will tell me what's going on, and I don't have enough energy to muster out any sort of reading. I guess good ol' conversation will have to suffice.<p>

"Krys!" She calls. "What...what are you...why are..." she can't seem to get the sentence out. Only then do I notice that half the cafeteria is in fact staring at me. My mind blanks.

"What?" I finally get out, thinking about how flawless of a "new start" this seems to be turning into. All I get in response are a few poorly stifled snickers from the direction of over Nicole's shoulder.

We stare at each other for a moment, me waiting for her to explain, she silently begging me not to make her. When the sniggering becomes louder, she sighs. Then I am finally able to identify her expression.

Embarrassment.

I continue to eye her down. And then she speaks.

"Do you want me to…to get someone to help you clean up?"

I look down at myself and for the first time actually realize how disgusting I must appear. My shirt is spattered with hellhound entrails - a splotchy mix of black, gold, and red - while it's also missing one sleeve. My jeans are torn and muddy, my jacket is tattered and filthy, ad my knees and elbows are caked in dried blood. No wonder I'm drawing so many stares and laughs.

So much for inconspicuous.

"No," I say, forcing myself to stay calm despite the aggravating pity I sense from Nicole. "No, I want you." I grab her wrist and pull her towards the door. She's so far the only person I trust not to laugh at me the first chance she gets.

"No, wait!" She yelps. "Don't you think a...a boy would be better?"

"Aw, Nicole and her new boyfriend are gonna go make out in her cabin! How cute." A male voice calls out from the crowd. Half the cafeteria erupts in laughter.

Nicole's face reddens noticeably, and I hiss in irritation, but continue to pull her out of the mess hall. When we finally reach the doors that I seriously don't remember being so damn far away, I push them open and slog off towards the cabin area, not checking to see if Nicole is following.

After a minute, I hear the patter of quick footsteps behind me. Nicole runs in front of me, looking pretty angry.

"What was that for?!" She shouts.

"What are you meaning?" I say, too frustrated to focus on correct word choice. "I am not the one who laughed."

"I kind of assumed you'd know to clean up a little before coming to a dinner with 200 people." She throws up her hands in exasperation.

I shake my head. Back where I come from, how I look would be nothing out of the ordinary. I have a feeling that fitting in here is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

"Fine," I say. "Go back if you want. I can take care of myself."

Nicole looks a bit conflicted, then sighs. "No. I'll help." She smiles. "I'll take you to my cabin. Hermes cabin's less likely to have a good clothing selection. Besides, it's messy enough in there as-is without adding those filthy things into the mix."

She makes a face of exaggerated disgust as she pokes at my jacket. I wrap it tighter around myself, fantasizing over the idea of new clothes. I usually only have two sets of clothes at a time, and only get new ones once a year. This will be a treat.

We walk on in silence for the remainder of the trip to the cabin area. I don't know which cabin I was expecting her to walk into, but it certainly wasn't the big one with the Greek columns. I pause on the steps before following her inside.

The interior stops me in my tracks. It looks like a miniaturized version of the Parthenon museum Mom took me to when I was little. The furniture…I guess it'll suffice to say there's not a lot of it. The whole thing feels pristine, almost. It even smells untouched. It seems impractical. I'd think function would be the primary goal of whoever the founders were, but that was apparently pushed to the backburner, come construction time.

"Don't look so mind-boggled," Nicole's voice breaks through my thoughts. "It's not that spectacular."

I shake my head and look around for a place to sit. I'm almost afraid to drop my jacket on the spotless floors, and God forbid I sit on the perfect bedspreads.

Nicole rushes over to one of the bunks, reaches under it, and comes back a few moments later with a very big t-shirt and some way-larger-than-normal jeans. And that's when it hits me.

_'She thinks I'm a guy!'_ I barely manage to stifle a burst of laughter. _'How did I not realize that? She wanted to have a guy help me out, and the others referred to me as her boyfriend…ugh, I am such an idiot sometimes.'_ I guess this is just another indication of my extreme social ineptitude. _'At least my terrible attempt at disguise worked. Somehow.'_

"I brought you some of Jason's. They'll probably be too big, but it's all we've got right now."

I gingerly take the clothes and look around. "Where…?"

"Oh! The bathroom's just over that way." Nicole points out the door. I jog out and over to the latrine-esque area I assume is the bathroom. Charming.

Now comes the dilemma. Men's or women's room? Keep up the pretense and risk an awkward confrontation? Yup. Definitely not the worst crossroads I've come to. I walk into the men's room - luckily empty - and close the door behind me. I nearly leap out of my skin at what's waiting in the mirror. I'm not even going to bother with the old "I move, it moves" cliché: I know it's me.  
><em><br>'No wonder I got laughed out of there,'_ I think. _'I look like a dumpster-diver just out of a mud-and-blood bath.'_ And I do. Even my hair is…no, I'm not even going to try to describe it.

I turn away from the mirror and walk into one of the stalls. I start getting changed, careful to avoid re-injuring my ribs. The pants are too long, but I'll live. The shirt is luckily large enough to keep my femininity from being blatantly obvious, and the uncomfortably tight cloth strip certainly helps. I use the sink to wash the gunk off of my jacket and put it on for good measure. I then walk out of the bathroom and dash back into the horrifyingly fancy living area of Nicole's cabin. _'This place is like a mini-mansion,'_ I scoff.

"What?" Nicole asks, sitting up in one of the beds - hers, I assume.

"Nothing," I say. "Thank you. I will return these when I have the chance to make my own."  
>She chokes. "Wh-wait, make your own? You mean that's all you…?"<p>

I nod.

She shakes her head. "You don't need…don't worry about it. I'm sure Chiron can throw together a wardrobe for you. No need to go all wilderness survival. Yet."

I raise an eyebrow at the "yet", but decide not to push it. "Again…thanks." As I head for the doors, Nicole stops me.

"Wait!" She calls, running over with a bag. She hands it to me. "Since you didn't really get any dinner, I thought you might…might want something small, at least." She smiles sheepishly as I take the bag. I'm not exactly sure how to react, so I decide to go for a quick-and-simple reading. She seems to be hoping for this to be a "friendship-bonding" moment, so I decide to act accordingly.

I flash her my best attempt at a warm smile and put on a grateful face before turning around and heading out. "Maybe you can give me that tour tomorrow or something." I say over my  
>shoulder. I can almost feel her relieved grin from behind me.<p>

"Definitely!" She says. "Good night!"

Once out of earshot, I let out a burst of bitter laughter. "Man…dude, that was, like, so sick!" I say, seeing how that old "American cool dude" cliché feels on my tongue. _'Nope.'_ I shake my head violently. _'Epic fail. Definitely not doing that again.'  
><em>  
>I run back up to Cabin 11 and grab my bags out from under the porch before bounding up the steps and right into someone coming out. A fairly big guy with dark hair and brown eyes.<p>

"Whoa! Sorry. Didn't see you there. You alright?"

"Yeah," I mutter. I push past him and into the cabin, ignoring the slightly bewildered expression on his face. I really don't feel like dealing with anyone else right now. I toss my stuff onto one of the seemingly unclaimed beds and plop down onto it. I lean against the headboard, uncapping a water bottle from my bag and raise it to my lips. The clear, revitalizing liquid trickles down my throat, and I feel some of my tension disappear with it.

I open my eyes and start to see a boy not inches from my face. Two of them, in fact. Obviously twins.

"Look-y here!" one of them says, grinning coyly. "Seems we got ourselves a new guy."

"Hermes kid?" The other asked.

"I didn't hear about any claiming. I'm guessing undetermined."

Not sure how else to react, I simply sit there, listening, bemused at their banter.

"Silent, too." One of them says.

"Aw, man." The other throws up his hands in mock frustration. "I was really hoping we'd get someone with at least a decent sense of humor."

"I'm thinking Apollo kid." Declares the first, ignoring his comrade's remark.

"No. Probably…Demeter?"

"Connor, he looks nothing like a Demeter kid!"

"Dude, I think we're freaking him out."

"I could not agree more." I put my hands on their foreheads and push them back slowly, indicating my need for personal space.

"Athena kid, then? All formal speaking like that." The second smirks.  
>I glare at him. "Shoo."<p>

He raises his hands in a show of innocence. Yeah, right. Just by the way he looks, I can already tell he's done his fair share of rule-breaking. "Fine! Excuse us for being friendly. C'mon, Travis. Let's go find more "sufferable" company."

As they walk out, I swear I hear them mutter something about Ares kids. With a growl, I bury my face in the pillow and let out a scream of anger. I'm not even sure what I'm angry at.

Those obviously extroverted twins? No. They didn't really do anything wrong.

Nicole? No. Yeah, I find extreme-niceness suspicious, but I didn't pick up anything malicious in the reading.

Me? Well…probably. I'm just so uptight, and I don't know how to wind down. I'm not sure I should. It's the only thing that's kept me alive this long - being so alert constantly. It takes it out of me, but it's better than succumbing. Better than giving in. Giving up. I won't. I can't. I've come too far to do that now.

But I'm not sure that any of my previous training can prepare me for life in a place like this: in a place that's normal. And it's pretty sad that the thing I'm most afraid of now is fitting in. I just pray to whatever celestial being happens to exist and watch down over my unceasing torture that I might get a break, and that maybe in the end, it will all be worth it.


	7. PAST--Swiss Army Plantation?

I didn't ever remember feeling more sore than I did when I finally awoke. I'd probably gotten less than an hour of sleep. I think it was raining too, which probably didn't have the greatest effect on my aching joints.

A sick feeling fell into the pit of my stomach when I thought of Aria, and how I'd likely never see her again. That pain - knowing I'd lost everyone and thing I cared about in so short a time - just made me want to curl up into a ball and let myself die. But I could hear Aria's voice echoing in my head as I imagined what she would say. _'"Quit acting like the nine-year-old you let people think you are and start being the warrior I know is in there somewhere."_' I furrowed my brow in concentration, trying to decide if I'd heard that somewhere before. Yes…yes, I had.

Once, after one of Aria's judo classes, she decided she was going to try to teach me what she'd learned. So, without much ado - Aria does what Aria wants to do - I became her pupil, and she my master. She was a great teacher and I was a terrible student. I learned diddly squat, for a while. No matter how hard I tried, I would just keep failing over and over again. Finally, I got so fed up, I started to cry. She tried to comfort me, but the second I decided to quit, that sympathy vanished faster than it had appeared. Then she said it. At first, I was a bit taken aback. I mean, it hurt. But then I realized: she was right. Granted, that didn't make it hurt any less, but the overall message behind it was actually the summary of my current incentive in and of itself: _'Suck it up. Get out of here now, cry later.'  
><em>  
>One of the girls from the previous night tapped me on the shoulder until I started from my half-asleep daze. She helped me straighten from my slumped position. There was a terrible crick in my neck, and I had to gulp down a whimper. An older girl gently but firmly helped me to my feet. I looked up at her, grateful, but looked away again when I saw the cold, frightened look in her eyes. She was a good lot older than me - probably at least 18 - but she was just as afraid as I was. And that scared me all the more.<p>

It was comforting, however, when she took my hand and held it tightly as we were led out by one of the men from the boat. It was as if she knew how much I needed the support and comfort of someone older, and even though she herself was our of strength, she was willing to give me some.

The camp looked way different in daylight - albeit it early daylight - than it did at night. The accentuated shadows were now simply piles of waste and smudges of rust. The previous night's rain had just picked up the dirt and sludge and collected it into tiny deposits scattered across the ground throughout camp. My curiosity begged me to run off to explore - or even just to get away from the smell - but I knew that it wouldn't be worth risking the anger of our new superiors. So instead, I just gripped the girl's hand tighter. I'm not sure she enjoyed being my oversized stress-ball, but she put up with it.

After walking approximately half way across camp, me and the older girl were separated. She and a bunch of other girls were taken in a different direction, while the younger girls and I were lead to the farthest side of camp. He split us into a multiple groups of six or so each, and then a few men split up and led is each in another direction. The other five girls in my group and I were taken to a van and packed into the back, shaking and scared. We only drove a short ways before we stopped again. When we got out, we were presented with what appeared to be a farm. The crop: I couldn't quite tell. I wasn't well-versed in agriculture and the like, being only nine. But I was to learn.

That day was very difficult. I had never been one for sports or extreme physical activity, but we rushed around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to almost literally absorb information as it was tossed at us. It was not made easier by the fact half of the men didn't speak English, and the other half only knew enough words to be barely coherent. As it turned out, it was a multi-export plantation. The camp itself had been full of people hauling rocks and ground-centered materials (it must have been built around a coal mine or something) while this place had just about everything else. Apparently, Bangladesh was big on textiles and agricultural products, as that's what was covered by this huge, acres-wide land. Sore feet and aching limbs were completely ignored. After, all what did the overseer care?

Overseer. My gods, it pained me to even think that. Overseer just made me think of the Egyptian slaves in the tales of Exodus. But then it hit me: in actuality, that's all that we were. Nothing but servants of the wicked. You always watch movies and judge those in thrall of the villain. I mean, everyone has a choice, right? Wrong. Dead wrong. Try being that slave, then tell me how easy it is to just walk away. Especially with a barbwire fence sitting there, begging to electrocute it's next victim. Electric fences are for cattle, not people. Oh, wait. I'd forgotten our owners didn't know the difference.

* * *

><p>"Watch yourself."<p>

"S-sorry…" I mumbled. It was so awkward having to work with kids so much bigger than me. I've always been a pretty short kid, but I'd never really cared until now. Now, as we were led on some sort of farm tour, some of the kids were getting…irritable. From what I could tell, the most aggravated of the people there were the ones I hadn't seen before. Aria's voice echoed in my head as I tried to reason through that.

_'"You haven't seen them before. So they might have come in on a different shipment. No…no, the shipment shouldn't affect how scared everyone is. As far as I know, everyone here is human. And humans get scared. Unless they know from experience that they don't need to be afraid. The only way that would be possible in a situation like this would be if they have been here longer than we have.'"_ The thought frightened me. _'How long do we have to stay here?! Those kids look really tough for twelve year olds. It'd take…a few…years…to make me as fearless.'  
><em>  
>My heart stopped, and I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I didn't seem to have time for a freak-out session, though, as the girl adjacent to me was pushing me along the line just as angrily as the faces of the men making sure no one slacked off or made a run for it.<p>

We were ushered along, being shown cross-plantation the workings of it. I wondered what the point of it was. Well, I didn't have to wonder for long. We toured for probably two hours before we were assigned tasks. Menial jobs that seemed pointless, until you saw how many people were there and that you were just one more piece in the giant puzzle of it all. One thread in the sheet. One strand in the web. Gods, I must be really bored if I've been reduced to aimless metaphors like that.

Some of us ended up monitoring the rice hullers (apparently, they grew rice). Some of us ended up in one of the buildings. I only got a glance in as I headed towards my job. It seemed to be along the lines of a clothes factory. My assignment? Apparently, I was feeding animals. I was kind of surprised they would go to all the trouble to hijack a boat and kill half the crew, then drag us down here just to have us tending livestock and sewing clothes. But hey, I wasn't real partial to arguing with those muscular, knife-wielding, psychopaths.

So I just kept my mouth shut and my head down as I slopped bucketfuls of…well, _slop_ into the pig sties. I really had no clue what it was I was supposed to do, so I just followed the examples of the few others who had been assigned the same job. Turns out, they didn't know what they were doing either. I say, we got yelled at a lot. I probably learned a few foreign obscenities and insults that day, but I probably didn't get out of it what their speaker - ahem, screamer - was hoping for. Maybe a dejected heart and a couple of bruises, but yeah, that's about it.

A plus: I made a new friend. Well, sort of. I was trying to lift one of the heavier buckets, but was really struggling with it. Not even my nine year old awesomeness was enough to lift the ten billion ton cauldron of trash. If that was the case, no one must be able to lift it! Well, my overseer didn't agree. When he saw my "failure to comply", he immediately walked over, grabbed me by the shoulder, and pushed me onto the ground, yelling curses into my ear. Just in time to save the day, this girl who looked a couple years older than me swooped in and grabbed up the bucket with ease, taking it to the place I was supposed to be at. The man straightened and gave me a dirty look before walking off to beat up some scrawny kid who apparently didn't know how to plow fields in perfectly geometric right angles by instinct. The girl who saved me came back a minute later, her expression grim and somewhat unreadable. She pulled me aside and whispered to me: "You _ajña mēẏē_! You should be more careful than that! You will get us all half rations for a week, working like that."

"I-I'm sorry," my voice quavered. "I didn't mean to. I was trying, but I'm just not very stro-"

"_Na_!" She snapped. "No excuses. You keep working, no matter how tired or weak you are. Otherwise, we all suffer for it. Do you understand?" She finished severely.

I nodded quickly, really just wanting to get away from the conversation with the scary girl who happened to have just saved my life. Surprisingly, however, her next action was a grin. "I am Asa. You?"

I let a smile start to peek through a bit, not sure if it was safe to open up yet. "I'm…I'm Krystal."

"Well, Krystal, I'll just say right off the bat that if there is anyone here you should trust, it's me."

I blinked. "Why?"

"'Cause I just saved your life." She turned away then looked back. She gave me a slightly disturbing grin. "Besides, you owe me one now. And I'll keep that in mind for later." And with that she was gone.

It was just then that a horn went off, echoing across the plantation and reaching every nook and cranny of the place. I waited until my peers started to stream out before dashing over to join them. I was worried the overseer would have noticed me gone and would try to find and punish me, but by my reasoning, hiding in the midst of the crowd would be best. There were just too many people for him to remember who was supposed to be where exactly when. At least, I hoped.

We were led back into the vans and driven back to the camp. It wasn't as freaky this time, as I already knew where we were going. The people I didn't recognize - and could only assume had been there longer - didn't seem scared or upset at all. A bit dejected and tired, sure, but not near as emotionally traumatized as I felt and everyone else appeared. That Asa girl, too. She seemed kind of smug. Like she was proud to have completed another full day's work. _'I hope I'm never forced into thinking like that.'_

When we returned, I was overwhelmed by fright and depression once again. I had been so distracted by the difficulty and intensity of the work that I had completely forgotten about Aria. Without her there to hold my hand through it, what would happen to me? She was like my guardian, and without her, I felt completely lost.

The men marched us to the rows of cabins and the others all filed into their previously assigned building and collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. I would have done the same, but I hesitated at the door. I turned around and gazed out over the camp, the dim torch lights casting long and threatening shadows. My eyes hovered on one point of light, which appeared to be nearing as it swayed with the stepping motions of its carrier. I squinted, afraid to wait and see who it was. It was likely just another guard, making his rounds. As the person neared, I saw that I was right in one respect: it was a guard. But I was wrong as well: there was someone else with him.

And that someone else just happened to be Aria.


End file.
